


The Way Things Go

by catboyrights



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Angst, Hand Jobs, Legion OCs - Freeform, M/M, Masturbation, One Shot, Public Hand Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 05:08:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12623956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catboyrights/pseuds/catboyrights
Summary: It's simply what men in the Legion do, though he wants to selfishly skew the meaning. Originally posted on the Atomic Wrangler Kink Meme. Minimal editing.





	The Way Things Go

It always ended like this. A day of scouting, make camp and well… this. It wasn't something out of the ordinary among their ranks, but to have made it such a routine perhaps drew a few curious glances from the other's among them. Nothing that would cause a disturbance, so they keep it up. Was just the way these things would always go. Not that either of them minded, nor it seemed anyone else in the camp for that matter, so they would keep it up until they got tired of each other. 

He hopes Aulus doesn't get tired of him.

The only light is a small lantern, tucked away to only give a soft cast to their camp for the time. His hand trails down, softly down his stomach beneath the hastily thrown on hide he had covered himself in for warmth. Just enough to perk himself up as it were. Yes he was a tool for judgement, for Mars' will, but at his core he was a man. He could allow himself a small moment of pleasure, nothing wrong in that.

Each and every time the same little scene. The night a play acted out in the exact way as the last. He was his own fluffer, if he wanted use the crude term he’d heard in his brief days in New Reno. The act of starting himself out was purely that, an act. Paw at himself fruitlessly until Aulus flopped over with a touch to his shoulder, his thigh. An assist. That's what this was. Two men helping each other to the means to an end, cut and dry.

Aulus’ voice is smooth as milk when he whispers in his ear, faint and slow.

“I suppose you need a hand Ancus, or will you settle on dealing with it all by yourself, hm?” He sighs dreamily into his ear–hot breath prickling up his skin, coiling hear inside him–pushing the hide to the wayside. His lips are soft in Ancus’ mind, soft and sugary and magic when he plants them against scarred skin. That isn't what this was. No words of sweet nothings or warm, wet kisses he secretly craved. Just a hand steady on his cock and enough to help him along. A hand in his hair. A whisper to edge him along. That was all.

The closest thing to tenderness he would feel, and he would wallow in it with a wholehearted smile. He had enough pride in battle to disregard any of sense of it here. Too few chances, too high a risk to let it continue further than this. So he clings to the moment, and lets it pass just like that. Same as it ever was.

“Yes or no,” Aulus says, hand drifting down his side. Teasing. Always with the teasing. Toying with him like they were in a game, not a war camp. “If you don't answer me I’ll start to think maybe you don't like me, and I would just be _so_ hurt by that dulcissimum... Comradery is quite important in times such as these, no?”

He let’s out an involuntary grunt in response as a hand brushes his to the side, ghosting along the length of his cock. Ancus bites at his lip, have to be considerate to the bodies still milling about around them. Never forget the stakes at hand.

“I suppose that will do.” Low and thick as molasses, driving him crazy. “Though I may not be so lenient the next time. Can't allow slips like these to become a habit, makes a contubernium slovenly, wouldn't you agree?”

Aulus slicks his hand, starting a torturous pace at his cock causing drawinf a hot white breath from Ancus. Sweet torture in its way.

“Ah now, use your words. Are you deaf or mute, because I don't want to trifle with either really. Wouldn't want to hurt your pride by saying you simply can't obey a given order, now do I? That's a death sentence and we both know it, so perhaps your sudden ailment can be cured–just as suddenly as it came mind you–before rumors spread, yes?” 

With that the strokes against his length sped; Ancus can feel the devilishly expectant grin spreading across Aulus’ face as he fights to steady his breath. Always wanted to make Ancus a fool, as if he didn't do a perfectly fine job at that himself.

“I thought this was simply helping a fellow brother out? You're not my Decanus, have no right here," Ancus says between ragged breaths, still biting back the sounds trying to slip their way out. Stifle the sounds, back to the proper decorum for situations such as these. No one wanted to be the man who couldn't keep things quiet enough for the other’s to lull themselves to sleep. Not a popular reputation to hold at all.

“Ah, right you are on that dear Ancus. If I were your Decanus, you’d be lucky a man such as yourself would get attention such as this,” Aulus says, brushing a thumb lightly against the tip of his length, a slight chuckle as it came away slick. “Look at how good I do for you.”

“You should put your money where your mouth is then Aulus.” His voice is strangled, low as Aulus picks up his pace again. Ancus tries not to let his mind wander at that. A delicate mouth he would love to have found another use for given the proper circumstance. No use for dwelling on what couldn't be, however tempting it might have been. “For all we know, with you as Decanus we would fall to ruin.”

“Awfully big words for a man who can't be trusted to survive by himself. Maybe I’m just not enough for you any longer though,” Aulus says, moving in closer. Ancus notices the stiffness at his back, but doesn't say anything. He’ll act on it one of these nights he swears, but he is far too hesitant to make the move now. He’ll hold his tongue and savor the feeling, that should be enough for him. 

It never was.

“If I’m such a disappointment then, what does that make you? So sullen when you think I’m uninterested, and when I'm so beneath you at that?” He was being cheeky. Always trying to prolong their encounter, though it always drove Aulus to try and push him over the edge then and there. He would have to learn one of these days, but for now he is content.

A fault of his it seemed, the tongue-tied way he always found himself. Was never quite versed in conversation outside of friendly banter. His loss he supposes as the pressure of Aulus’ hand tightens, urging him to thrust his hips into his grip. 

“You seem interested in my attentions now though, don't you? No man wants his help to go unnoticed dear, says nothing of their bond. Don't you like my help Ancus? I could always leave you on your own if I am such a nuisance, given that's what you wanted.”

His cock throbbed, unable to contain himself as Aulus chattered on. A hand flew to his face as he bit down hard to stifle the building moan, as he sputtered into Aulus hand completely spent.

As Ancus came to down to Earth he chuckled wryly. The semen that spilled across his chest pulled him back to the reality of things, as caught up in the memory as he was.

Aulus isn't with him anymore, and hadn't touched him since long before he’d made Frumentarii either way. Yet he still thinks back to those nights, tender and brotherly. He has a new friend as they called themselves–for lovers are foreign, friendship however was easily digestible and left the meaning far too clear–but he craves the nostalgia sometimes. The boyish rush of lust he’d had whenever their bodies would meet. Perhaps it was a side effect of growing old, though he wouldn't linger on it.

He wipes himself clean with a spare, threadbare blanket as he stares up towards the dark expanses of his tent. His mind starts to wander as he drifts further and further into sleep. To Arizona with Aulus, and what could have been. Not so much a need as simple curiosity. Ancus supposed it would have held him back. Another needless complication to the life of a spy, had Aulus even the will to claim that role with him sticking along like a splinter deep in the skin.

Before his eyes shut he thinks of Aulus, happy in the arms of a faceless man. It's a strange comfort really. Perhaps, when the heat of battle had run thin and the work of building a capital Caesar would find pride in was in motion the two could meet again. Nothing would come from it, but he has always been a selfish man when it comes to fantasy. They just were brothers in arm and that was all, he muses before a thick cloak of sleep takes it hold. 


End file.
